


A Gala Performance (They're Playing Our Song Remix)

by Gramarye



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Invisible fandom, M/M, Operas, Post-Canon, Remix Revival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 05:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12184125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gramarye/pseuds/Gramarye
Summary: It's pure coincidence that the Mariinsky's current opera season happens to include Enrico Bruni'sLa Forza dell'Amore, with its well-known ariaStammi Vicino. It's anything but coincidence that Viktor Nikiforov has bought out an entire box for its opening night performance.





	A Gala Performance (They're Playing Our Song Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elstaplador](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/gifts).
  * Inspired by [La Forza dell'Amore](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9441272) by [El Staplador (elstaplador)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/pseuds/El%20Staplador). 
  * In response to a prompt by [El Staplador (elstaplador)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elstaplador/pseuds/El%20Staplador) in the [remixrevivalmadness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2017) collection. 



> A _very_ last-minute, eleventh-hour remix idea that refused to let go of me, based on El Staplador's wonderful concept of the opera that _Stammi Vicino_ might have come from. With apologies that it couldn't be longer, owing to the imminent opening of the collection -- one can only imagine that the three of them had some interesting conversations during intermission as well -- but with thanks for creating this invisible fandom to play in!
> 
> Disclaimer note: None of the performers mentioned in this fic are real singers, but for this performance the main roles are as follows:  
> \- Pietro (mezzo-soprano _en travesti_ ) - Alina Terentova  
> \- Ettore (tenor) - Daniel Sedick  
> \- Maria (soprano) - Nadezhda Polovenko

As the echoes of applause faded from the walls of the theatre and the house lights started to come up, Yuuri rubbed his stinging palms against the sides of his suit trousers. He couldn't remember the last time he had clapped so loudly or for so long, to the point where his upper arms ached and his hands felt almost numb. He rolled his neck a little, grimacing as he both heard and felt his muscles and tendons protesting -- but then again, the discomfort was all part of the return to reality, after sitting through several hours of a performance so enthralling that he'd barely turned his head except to follow the action on the stage.

He wasn't the only one who needed a moment to pull himself back together. On his left, Viktor was dabbing at his eyes with the sad remains of a tissue, the last survivor of the now-empty packet crumpled on the floor at his feet. The floor of their box was littered with the rest of them, a sea of sodden tissues that had cascaded in all directions when Viktor stood up to applaud even before the conductor had let his baton fall on the last note of the finale. As Yuuri went to bend over, reaching to pick up the tissue nearest to him, another one suddenly bounced across his feet from the right and rolled to a stop by the front edge of the box.

'It's his snot, Katsudon,' Yuri grumbled. 'Let him deal with it.' With the point of his toe, he flipped another crumpled tissue in Viktor's direction, clearing the space around his own feet. 'Gross -- this is worse than being stuck in a kiss-and-cry with Georgi.'

Yuuri hid a smile. 'At least two of those down there are mine, I think,' he said. 'And didn't you ask for one as well, at the last intermission?'

'Yeah, because I know how _pockets_ work.' As if to provide proof, Yuri dug into one of his trouser pockets and pulled out a wadded-up mass of tissue. 'And I keep my own snot to myself, thank you.'

'So you _did_ end up using it,' Yuuri said, letting a little of that hidden smile slip out.

Scowling, Yuri shoved the tissues back into his pocket. 'It's dry in here, all right?' was his explanation. 'And the inside of my nose was itching.'

His point made, Yuuri allowed the rest of his smile to show through. 'Did you like it, though?' He didn't need to ask if Viktor had enjoyed it; Viktor hadn't let go of his hand since the start of the third act, and Yuuri could tell when a particular line had touched him by the varying pressure of Viktor's grip. Throughout Pietro and Ettore's reunion duet, he had squeezed Yuuri's hand so tightly that Yuuri had felt the bones of his fingers all but grinding against each other -- but he didn't mind, because he knew that in the final reprise of _Stammi Vicino_ he'd returned that clasp with a white-knuckled grip of his own.

Yuri briefly looked away, his eyes darting out to scan the emptying theatre. 'It was fine,' he said, with a slight shrug, as he looked back at Yuri. 'Better than I thought it would be. It's different than just listening to the music over and over again.'

'Probably the best I've seen,' Viktor said suddenly, and they both turned to look at him. Even with watery eyes and a nose blotched with red from blowing and sniffling, he still had an unfairly perfect smile. 'I thought the La Scala production three years ago was excellent, even if they cut the ballet set pieces, but this...really, Terentova and Sedick were absolutely perfect as Pietro and Ettore. Even better than the Kudou recording.' 

'They were really fantastic,' Yuuri agreed eagerly. The Kudou recording, the one that Viktor -- that both of them -- had skated to, was considered perhaps the quintessential recording of Enrico Bruni's _La Forza dell'Amore_. Certainly the best rendition of the _Stammi Vicino_ aria and duet, as far as Yuuri was concerned...until tonight, that is. 'I'd love to have a recording of this ensemble.'

Viktor's eyes sparkled. 'Right from the start, I _knew_ it would be fantastic,' he declared. 'That first act! _Vittoria! Ah, miei fratelli, vittoria!...._ ' He hummed a few mostly-on-key notes from the jaunty soldiers' chorus, his head swaying from side to side. 'And Terentova made Pietro's inner strength really shine through, that determination in the face of his personal grief, while -- '

'How much did you want for the ticket?' Yuri cut in, forestalling VIktor's continued rhapsodizing about the lead mezzo's interpretation of her character.

Brought back to himself without warning, Viktor looked perplexed. 'I told you it was my treat, Yurio. You got us those tickets for Onegin last month.'

'Yeah, but that was _Onegin_.' Yuri fiddled with one of the sleeves of his suit jacket, trying to tug it down in a fruitless effort to show less of his shirt cuff. It was the same suit he'd worn to the GPF banquet in Barcelona; scarcely a few months later, he was dangerously close to outgrowing it. 'They practically take away your Russian citizenship if you don't see it, and Katsudon needed to....' He seemed to change his mind about finishing that thought, and with a final yank on his jacket sleeve he glowered up at Viktor. 'And it's not like I went and bought out a whole damned _box_ for it.'

Viktor waved a hand blithely. 'It was available,' he said, as if a complete bank of last-minute box seat tickets for performances at one of Russia's most famous theatres were a thing that anyone could obtain. 'Anyway, the night's not over yet. Once we get our coats, we're going backstage.'

'Backstage?' Yuuri echoed, startled. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Yuri stiffen as well, in similar astonishment.

'I thought it would be nice if we went and congratulated the cast in person.' At the pair of incredulous and increasingly panicked looks he received, Viktor held up his hands in a placating manner. 'Don't look so nervous!' he said. 'I arranged to have flowers delivered from all of us, and they should have arrived by now, so all _we_ have to do is show up and say what we liked best.'

The idea was equal parts thrilling and terrifying, and in Yuuri's case the former was rapidly gaining ground on the latter. 'If...if you're sure they'd want to see us....' he began, a smile already spreading across his face. The chance to shake hands with a virtuoso like Daniel Sedick, who was at his absolute best when singing heroic soldier tenors like Ettore and Radames and Manrico, was too good to pass up. And with both Viktor and Yuri there to bolster his nerves, he might even be able to overcome his usual reticence enough to ask Sedick and Alina Terentova to sign his program.

Viktor nodded. 'Oh, I know they would. Apparently, Nadezhda Polovenko -- the soprano who sang Maria? -- follows Yurio on Instagram.'

Yuri made a noise that sounded as if he were choking on a mouthful of consonants. '...she _what_?' he said weakly, when he could finally string the words together.

'I'm sure she'll be very excited to hear what you thought of her performance.' Viktor winked, as much in conspiracy with Yuuri as in playful teasing at Yuri. 'This role is her Mariinksy debut. She's only nineteen, you know.'

Yuuri didn't have to actually look at Yuri to know that nightmare visions of the more enthusiastic members of his fanbase were starting to darken his thoughts. 'She sang wonderfully as well,' he said, trying to nudge the conversation back to the topic at hand. 'I'm sure she'd like to hear that -- it's not an easy role for someone so young. And I thought she was much better than....' He frowned, then looked at Viktor. 'Who was it on the Kudou recording?' 

'Perelain,' Viktor replied promptly. 'Amelia Perelain -- and you're right, she didn't quite have the same strength to hold her own in the ensemble pieces, even if she was fine in the solos. Not like our Maria tonight.' He gave Yuri a more kindly smile. 'I promised Lilia I'd have you back home at a reasonable hour, anyway, so you don't have to worry about running out of things to say. Just tell her something that you liked, and it'll mean a lot to her.' He turned back to Yuuri, and held out a hand. 'Shall we?'

Yuuri looked down at Viktor's hand -- and the forgotten tissue balled up in it, held against his palm with his thumb. From there, it wasn't too difficult to look down at the cluttered floor of the box, and say, quietly, 'The tissues?'

Viktor had the good grace to look abashed, but his usual theatricality swiftly reasserted itself. _'O dovere crudele!'_ he exclaimed, a perfect match to Ettore's lament about the cruel duty to which he was sworn, and sank down onto one knee to collect the tissues from around his feet.

Without a word, Yuuri crouched down to help him clean up their space. And a moment later, an exasperated huff and a rustle of movement behind them hinted that Yuri was reluctantly following suit.

It wasn't exactly a romantic way to conclude an evening at the opera...but then again, the evening wasn't quite over yet.


End file.
